


Smooth Jazz

by shaherazade21c



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaherazade21c/pseuds/shaherazade21c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York doesn't like hospitals and a cooped up York can find all manner of devious ways to entertain himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth Jazz

York knew that he could break in. Standard key-pad with a seven digit password – if you knew the Chief of Security you would know that he had a daughter named Melissa who was born on April 1st of 2552 and have the password down pat. He could do it with his eye closed. Hell, he could do it in his sleep. Compared to a Fortune 500 weapons development company or an insurrectionist military base, hospitals were a cake walk.

The plan was simple: wait until the shift change so only one guard was on duty, initiate a distraction so that guard leaves the external command center (it’s amazing what people will do for tapioca pudding in here), enter the code, jam the keypad and voilá. Mission accomplished. The new guy, Eric, was on duty tonight. He was one of those nervous types so he should be running past any minute now to make sure everything got fixed before he got in trouble. He’d be fine, it wouldn’t be his fault or anything, so he could relax but it sort of suited York’s purposes anyway.

“Holy motherfucking Christ! Why! Why me!” And there he goes, right on schedule. Setting the magazine he’d been leafing through back on the table, he smiled at the nurse and headed in the direction of the exit. Nobody would think anything of it because he usually ambled that one at one point or another at some point in the night – depending on how late it was they would just nod at him or say off-handly that he should get some rest before going about their business. Typing in the password, he quickly slipped through the sliding doors and pulled out a plastic spork from the cafeteria. When the doors slid closed again he began to pry off the plastic guard to get to the mechanism under the keypad and fiddle with a few of the wires.

“Agent York, you are damaging the doors capability to function at optimum level.”

“Yeah, I know F.I.L.I.S, sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I do not see you on the mission roster Agent York, what are the particulars of your operation?”

“Well, actually F.I.L.I.S, I was hoping you could help me with that.” Walking over to the communication console, he crawled under the desk and set about the task of removing one of the panels.

“How is it that I may assist you?”

“I’d like to piggyback on your communication system.”

“To what purpose?”

“Nothing really . . . I guess.” York sat, waiting with the coils under the console exposed, for F.I.L.I.S’s response. He didn’t have to wait long.

“I believe that with your training you are familiar with the appropriate procedure?”

“Yeah F.I.L.I.S, I got it. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome York.”

A binder clip connecting a few stripped wires had him all set to go. Show time.

“York 106.7 . . . smooth jazz. Hey all you agents out there this is New York coming to you live from good ol’ Mother of Invention. Bringing you the tunes you wanna hear. This first song is dedicated to Agent Washington ‘Sometimes Rules are Meant to be Broken’ by Elevator #4” Typing in the appropriate mumbo jumbo to redirect the elevator music over the air waves, York sat back to enjoy.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Carolina thought best when she was doing. On a mission problems would crop up in an instant and they had to be solved just as fast or she and her team would lose. She had to solve them. She was always responding, reacting to her surroundings. So, when a particularly thorny problem cropped up she would run, or lift weights or work with the punching bags. Because then she would be doing. She was on her fifth lap when she heard York’s voice over the intercom. She immediately shut the treadmill down. “York 106.7”? “Bringing you tunes”? That idiot was supposed to be resting, what in the hell was he doing and why was he playing elevator music? Marching over to the comm she keyed in the code for Hospital security and saw York sitting behind the desk.

“Oh, seems we have a caller on the request line . . . Hello there, where you from?”

“York. What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. You don’t mind speaking up a bit do you? You’re on the air.”

“The Mother of Invention is not a radio station York.”

“Now that hurts. It’s not much, but to us at York 106.7 it’s home. You got a favorite song caller? Maybe I can change your mind?” She didn’t smile, not because he would see if she did and that would be all the encouragement he would need, but because it wasn’t reassuring to see him sitting there laughing and joking like usual. It wasn’t, he should be in bed.

“York. Get some rest.”

“But . . .”

“Excuse me, Agent York Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to return to your room.” A uniformed officer said over York’s shoulder, shifting from foot to foot. York sighed.

“Well folks, you’ve been listening to York 106.7, smooth jazz. This is New York signing off.”

“Goodnight York.”'

“Night Carolina . . . See you tomorrow?” He looked so hopeful and she had to do what was best for her team, York was her second after all. So she nods and ends the call so the screen goes blank.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

York turns to look at Eric sheepishly. “Sorry about that man.”

“Ummmmh, it’s okay? I guess . . .”

“You taking me back?”

“Yeah . . . if you don’t mind . . .”

“No problem man.” They walked in an almost companionable silence down the hospital hallway and just before he entered his room, York turned back to look at the guard.

“Hey, do you know what’s on the menu tomorrow?”

“Ummm, not really . . . that pudding stuff? Maybe?”

York grinned “Perfect.”


End file.
